Thicker than water.

My little cousin asked me how boats float.

I explained that boats are filled with mosquitos, because mosquitos are able to land on top of water. Mosquitos make boats buoyant.

Two weeks later, my little cousin trekked into the swamp and purposely got herself covered in mosquitos.

I'm just glad she drowned before the malaria kicked in.

The Aristocrats, the Haiku.

Family acts vile.
Agent asks what their act's called.
"The Aristocrats!"

I was feeling adventurous...

...so I put my iTunes on 'shuffle' while I was wanking. The score of Full Metal Jacket came on.

I shot a blank.

I didn't want my pipe clogged, so I changed the track and wanked again. This time, it was the score of a Clockwork Orange.

I got really, really sick before I could finish.

By now, it was a point of pride. I changed the track and returned to wanking, now to the score of Spartacus.

It worked, but it was so underwhelming that I disowned the spunk.

Pass(ed)over!

I had a sub today. I'm not Jewish, but I felt guilty.

Then I kinda felt left out that it didn't matter.

Then I felt depressed that I'm not a Chosen One.

I'm gonna go drown myself in a package of Hawaiian rolls, liquor, and ziti.

- My poor friend, Cindy.

Some wordsmithery.

Pre-nostalgia, n., When you're happy, and someone's about to take a photograph of you, and you think, "I hope when I see that photo, I feel as good as I feel right now."

Unintended consequences.

Martin Luther nailed his Ninety-Five Theses to the door of a church.

He didn't mind inciting the Protestant Reformation. That was fine.

But he was dissapointed that he didn't provoke a trend of minimalist wallpaper.

Penis.

A cow so fat from grass,
her milk will last a while.

A cow who’s now a side of beef.
A cow who’s hung by her legs on a hook.

She swings from side to side.
She's skinned. She's veined.

She's white as gauze, with red
on her nubs. A tube of ribs.

Her flesh is set, her blood is dry,
but her milk still flows, still fresh.

A deleted scene.

I'm re-writing my thesis script.

It's a buddy comedy between God and a skeptic.

The twist is that God's a dumb guy who happens to be omnipotent. He realizes what a shitty job he's done, creating an uncertain universe and whatnot, and he wants to commit suicide.

Unfortunately, if God commits suicide, the Universe will die with him. So Harry the skeptic must convince him that there's a Meaning of Life.

Here's a scene from the first draft. I love it, but it won't be in the new draft.

Where we are in the story: the roles have changed. Harry the skeptic is now suicidal, and God wants to keep his buddy alive.

One of my jobs is burying roadkill.

Today I found an armadillo.


It didn't look like an armadillo at first. More like a gray football that had been deflated. I only realized that it wasn't a football when I lifted it, and felt its weight.

While this was unsanitary, it wasn't gruesome. The armadillo was packed neatly inside its cracked taco of a shell. It didn't twitch, leak, or even squish.

As I laid it in its grave, I couldn't help but think, "What remarkable manners!"

Is that so much to ask for?

I just want a girl who'll keep re-watching Hannah and Her Sisters, Company, and Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice while daydreaming about the girls I love with me.

(Maybe I should wait to make an eHarmony profile.)